


Perrier Bottle

by MarcyBel (orphan_account)



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blood, Bullies, Eddie Kaspbrak - Freeform, Henry Bowers - Freeform, Henry Bowers totally doesn't get a redemption arc in this, Missing Scene, Other, Violence, but theres a look-in regarding his psyche, listen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 13:30:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11127906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/MarcyBel
Summary: Henry and Eddie have a heart-to-heart.





	Perrier Bottle

Eddie had held the stump of the Perrier bottle and now, as Henry's knees came completely unhinged, he got it in front of him, jagged place pointing upward, the cap braced across his sternum. Henry came down on it like a tree, impaling himself on the bottle. Eddie felt it shatter in his hand, a fresh bolt of grinding agony shuddered through his left arm, which was still trapped under his body.  
-It, Eddie's room/3:05 AM.  


He had time to only look at the injury slightly, before his wary eyes moved to Henry, who was twitching, rolling on the blood-stained carpet.  
"Fuck, fuck FUCK!" It came out in a whine from across the room, the man grasping at his torn shirt with a horrified expression.  


Eddie sensed the air in the room change suddenly, like a candle being blown out. He had been fighting for his life moments ago, yes, Henry meant to slice him to pieces with that goddamn switchblade, but it was all over now. He knew, unconsciously, that the change of feeling in himself, (in aura? Mike would know what to call it) wasn't just the sense of finality, it was the clown leaving It's vessel. Abandoning a sinking ship as Henry steadily bled out.  


He had realized long ago that It had used Henry, just as It had used the town. It manipulated people with unseen strings, the puppeteer of Stan and Mike's Bird and Eddie's own cherrypicked fears.  


There were no pawns of Pennywise's in this room. At least, not anymore. Only a dying bully that never truly grew up, and a man who took asthma medication which was only flavored water. He called to mind the image of crazy Butch Bowers and his shit-house farm for a moment, meditated on it, and then advanced on Henry.  


Whilst ragged moans escaped the figure on the floor, a part of him screamed at him not to go over there.  


_Henry's j-juh-juhst playing. He's fu-found his sw-switchblade on the f-floor and he's waiting for you to l-luh-lean right over and be the fu-fool."_

The voice of the ever-wise Big Bill offered its advice, and then the voice morphed into something else. The high, warbling pitch of his mother.  


_Don't go near him, Eddie! He's a baad man! Didn't I teach you not to go near bad men?"_

But he couldn't so much as resist the pull that was drawing him across as the Losers could have resisted walking into that house on 29 Neibolt Street to fight the Teenage Werewolf. It felt right, but dangerous. Dangerous, as in if he was wrong about It relinquishing Its hold on Henry, then he would die. If It hadn't left, if Henry was still Occupied, then It would use him for one hell of a last fight.  


Eddie was close enough now to see Henry's pale face in the dark. When he stepped forwards, Henry Bowers didn't turn his head in a mad grin, grabbing his ankle with a steel-grip to pull him down with him. No, he was still. A red splotched t-shirt rose with each breath.  


"Henry?" He said into the face of his own personal childhood evil, and it sounded so stupid. Downright idiotic. Sorry for getting you with that bottle, ol' buddy. But you were trying to kill me there. No hard feelings, right? Eddie noticed with some relief that there was no blade in either of Henry's open palms. 

"I'm calling an ambulance now." What the fuck was he saying? He didn't even have a phone in his hands to call. There was no point to it anyway. Henry was steadily approaching death's door with half a bottle in his gut, and by the time they arrived he would be there. Still, something about the words felt right somehow. Comforting to him, at least. 

He knelt down on his haunches, afraid at first, and then moving closer hesitantly. Henry's ugly hand opened and closed on the ground. Eddie took it in his own instinctively. He found himself rambling to the man, his voice cracking.

"After they patch you up you can... You can go back to Juniper Hills. They'll take care of you there." Henry hissed through gritted teeth at that, the good eye that hadn't been bottled locking eyes with Eddie's. His mouth worked to tell the fag that had grabbed his hand and wouldn't let go that he didn't want to go back there, no way no sir, they beat you with sticks of quarters cuz they couldn't use truncheons and when the moon shined bright in the cell-like rooms of Juniper Hills you had to lay in your bed and listen to Benny Bealieu the Pyromaniac bawl about setting fires, thinking about Arlen Weston's convulsion after Koontz had hit him too hard- but he couldn't get the words out. Blood ran down his bottom lip. 

A wave of nausea hit Eddie when his gaze fell on the side of the man's face. There were puncture marks where the jagged edges of the glass had landed true. He looked downwards and saw his ripped up stomach and shirt, recalling Henry had been already bleeding well before he came here. He had blundered into his room like a bat out of hell, covered in red and frenzied. Someone had hurt him, oh yes. Did that mean he had tried to go after the others?

"Belch Huggins." Henry finally said with a croak, "Drove me here."

"Belch's been dead for a long time, Henry." The sentence came like a retort, because Eddie was scared. He was truly, heart-beating-rabbit-fast scared. Not of Henry anymore, but of understanding what he meant. 

"Don't you think I know that?" An old, biting meanness resurfaced again, coming out like the sudden bark of a dog. Black, glittering eyes seemed to narrow at him, but the anger was gone as quickly as it came. There was silence between them. 

The silence was broken by a shaky cry of pain from Henry. With some surprise, Eddie saw that whilst the man's left arm was unceremoniously clutching his painful stomach, his right held Eddie's hand now with a feverish clutch. The blood from his cut and Henry's ran together, warm and sticky in his palm. 

Belch looking at him again, his lips stretched in a terrible grin that revealed gray-black gums which were growing their own garden of mold.

"Yeah, he was dead, alright. Like those horror pictures. But he moved." So It had taken on the form of Belch through Henry's fears, just as It had done with The Leper to him. Like the balloons- Asthma medicine gives you cancer!- and the blood in Beverly's sink.

"Told him," Henry swallowed, "I got lost. Never meant to run away and leave him, or-or Vic, with whatever was down there. I swear." Henry's eyes flickered upwards. "You believe me?" 

Eddie nodded, remembering that day in the sewers gravely. "Yeah. I do." 

"Good." With that, Henry let out a relieved, shuddering breath, and died.


End file.
